Millie Scaife Talking Book candidate

[John Dean]

Jennifer Cross is Boss?

 

Frances finally went to see what had happened to her daughter as she stormed out of the kitchen frustrated with Paul’s arguments and lack of help with Sophie.  It was bad enough having to do a full-time job that she didn’t particularly enjoy, let alone look after Sophie with the wretched chicken pox as well.  Trust Sophie to get the chicken pox the week after they had moved house and everything was still upside down.  She climbed the stairs and went into Sophie’s room which was in darkness.  Frances turned on the light which revealed an empty bed.  ‘Sophie! She called ‘where are you?’ There was no reply.  ‘Oh no what’s she up to now?’ She hurried into the bathroom – empty.   ‘You know you’re not allowed in our room, you naughty little girl’, Frances made her way across the landing, and reaching for the light in her room, she heard a faint snoring sound.  Sophie was fast asleep in front of the dressing table mirror.  The momentary relief at finding her daughter was quickly replaced by the horror she felt at the scene she took in. ‘What on earth…?!’

 

Sophie had fallen asleep with her head on the dressing table, displacing her mother’s pars and pots of creams, her china doll beside her - the doll Frances’ mother had bought Sophie for being such a brave girl at her new school. Frances was horrified to find her new Elizabeth Arden lipstick smeared all over the doll’s face and her Clinique eye shadow everywhere.  ‘Why would you do such a thing Sophie?’ Frances immediately blamed the influence of the new neighbourhood school – one of Paul’s latest cost cutting ideas.  She wiped up the lipstick along with the tears on Sophie’s cheeks and put her to bed without her waking.  She would deal with her daughter in the morning.

 

Sophie enjoyed her enforced stay off her new school, she regretted she couldn’t show Amber her spots though. Amber would be on the red table now and Miss Randall would be reading them all a story. Miss Randall smelt of flowers not like Mrs Waters.

 

The chickenpox cleared. Sophie woke early and looked out of the window as a red dawn rose over the grey walls of the town.  Another long day, she thought, another day back at Compton Street Primary.  Sophie saw the hated china doll sitting on the window sill for safe keeping, so her mother thought. The red streaks across the sky reminded her of the red lips she had tried to put on the doll to make her smile. Sophie had so wanted the doll to smile at her. Neither the doll nor her mother had smiled that night or the following day, and now the doll looked down at her – sullenly…cross even.  Sophie considered its perfect face, framed with perfect yellow hair, staring at her accusingly, and she reached for the packet of white TAC.  She carefully rolled a number of tiny white TAC blobs.  Sophie squashed one on to the doll’s snub little nose – she approved of the result, and continued to transform cheeks, forehead, eyelids, lips and even into the yellow hair, even though you couldn’t see these very well. Having completed her task, she sat back and smiled, ‘There’, serve you right’, announced Sophie, ‘You can have the chicken pox now, Mummy said it was catching’.

 

Sophie’s hair was a sort of light brown colour.  When they did the hair colour bar charts at school Jennifer Cross had put her into the brown group.  Jennifer Cross was the Project Leader in number; her hair was blonde, and wavy and pretty, a bit like the china doll’s, Sophie thought. Jennifer Cross had called Sophie’s hair ‘drab and mousey’ but said there wasn’t a colour bar on the chart for mousey, so she would have to be in brown, which Sophie thought was probably better anyway.  Sophie discovered Jennifer Cross lived on the ‘estate’. She understood why Mrs Waters had chosen bossy Jennifer Cross to be leader.  She also knew why Mrs Waters hadn’t chosen Sophie. 

 

At the babysitter’s that morning Sophie sat in front of the TV before the walk to school. She was thinking about Jennifer Cross and how her audience of girls from the estate seemed to like her, they gave her sweets and things, laughed when she pulled Sophie’s mousey hair, and thought it hilarious to call her Stuck up Soppie Sophie every time they weren’t in earshot of Mrs Waters. ‘Pat?” Sophie asked, “ Where’s the estate? Is it big and posh with trees?’ Andrew Forsythe- Jones, from her old school, had lived on an estate. Pat smiled, ‘No pet, no trees, just concrete – over by the shopping centre.’ Sophie went to the loo before they left, in the hope of holding out until lunchtime thus avoiding the toilets at playtime. 

 

When playtime came, Sophie immediately took up her usual stand at the corner of the yard near the only tree, out of sight.  She watched. It seemed everyone was playing with someone or talking or laughing with a friend.  How she wished Amber could just pop round the corner and they could play skips, or if she could have a quick cuddle from Teddy. She had managed to rescue Teddy out of the bin when they were moving from the big house, she’d hidden him away in a very safe place in her bedroom in case mummy threw him out again, saying ‘no place for teddies now you’re all grown up in your new big school’.  She liked her new bedroom, it was cosy, but some of her toys had had to go because there wasn’t room for them all.  She didn’t mind too much – they would help the children at the hospital who were poorly, her mother had said.   Of course, she had to find room for the miserable china doll, her mother had laughed dismissively when Sophie offered it for the hospital.

 

In the playground Sophie watched Jamie Smith run screaming to the teacher but she’d seen what happened, she knew it was his own fault, but still the teacher comforted him; she watched Jennifer Cross organise the girls’ skipping game and saw how Phillipa Jones was always turning the rope and never in the skipping; Phillipa Jones wore glasses too.  

 

Sophie hated being in Jennifer Cross’ group in the number lesson after play, and at the thought of it, the butterflies invaded her tummy and she felt hot. But before she could think anymore, Danny Broadbent came crashing into her after his getaway from another boy.  She was so startled she fell over.  ‘Oh God you’re not hurt are you?’ enquired Danny - the apparent concern came from a desire not to be blamed for hurting her, rather than for her welfare. ‘No, no I’m alright, honest.’ Sophie smiled.  ‘Sorry,’ Danny offered quickly, ‘only I didn’t see you there.’  With that Danny wiped his watery, runny nose right down his sleeve, shrugged and ran off muttering something about Sophie not really being stuck up after all.  ‘Common!’ her mother would have sneered about him, like she did when the paper boy used to leave their gate open, ‘No manners, can’t expect any better from round here’. Sophie couldn’t help thinking it might be fun to be common. 

 

As they lined up to go into class Danny almost gave her a smile, grateful, she assumed, for not dobbing him in, as he would have put it.  Once in their seats the children were surprised to hear Mrs Waters announce a change of lesson next.  There was to be a competition for the most interesting ‘Show and Tell’.  The Inspector, who was very important, was coming the following week and wanted to meet the children and listen to what they had to say.  These sorts of things had little to do with Sophie, because she was never chosen to be a part of anything special.  But Mrs Waters continued - ‘Everyone must choose something to bring from home that you think is special and tell us why.  You may begin writing your ideas about it now’ she instructed, making it sound like the easiest thing in the world.

 

Sophie felt sick all over again.  She had nothing special, and she couldn’t stand up and talk about anything to a whole class, and what would Jennifer Cross say?  It just felt like a nightmare whichever way she looked at it.

When her mother collected her from the babysitter’s, she heard how Sophie hadn’t eaten her tea and been sulky - ‘again’.           

‘Sophie what’s the matter?  Why haven’t you eaten your tea?’ 

In the car, Sophie decided to explain her problem.

‘But you have lots of special things you could take.  What about your lovely new book or your necklace, you got for your last birthday from Grandma?’ Sophie thought the necklace was too high a security risk, although she didn’t say so.  Then she had an idea.

‘I know, could I take my china doll mummy?  It’s so beautiful’, she lied, ‘ I know it cost Grandma a lot of money but no one will have anything like that..’ appealing to her mother’s sense of elitism.  Sophie was beginning to formulate a plan. 

‘Well you’re probably right about that.’ Her mother agreed.  ‘It is exquisite.  If grandma says yes,  then OK.  But you must carry it very carefully and look after it at school.  I’ll write a note to your teacher explaining how valuable it is.’

 

That night Sophie reached for the doll, still ridden with chicken pox.  She put a dot in the middle of each spot with her red felt tip.  ‘They’re on the mend now they’re scabbing’ she told Teddy.

 

In the morning of the Show and Tell day, Sophie told the china doll where she was going.  Her sulky expression didn’t change – still no smile, even though the chicken pox had cleared – scabs and all.  The doll was carefully packed in a shoe box.  Sophie made particular effort to tightly cover its china face. It was transported without incident to the classroom.  The children had been allowed to bring their belongings in before the bell if they wanted, for safe keeping.  Sophie’s mum placed it on the table amongst bits of home made jewellery, a painting and a plate of misshapen home baked fairy cakes, covered in haphazard icing.  ‘Sophie’s gem was bound to win’ Frances thought with pride.

 

After register and assembly the ‘Show and Tell’ began.  One of the boys had made a pasta necklace for his mum on her birthday and she’d said it was very special. Brooches and badges were popular, Danny Broadbent told the class how his conker was a 32er because he’d soaked it in vinegar.  Phillipa Jones said the cakes were her special thing because she had made them with her grandma who was fat and lovely. Then it was Jennifer Cross’ turn.  The class watched with intrigue as Jennifer Cross pulled out of a Marks and Spencer bag the latest most fantastic witch’s costume for Hallowe’en.  She told everyone how she was planning a fancy dress  Hallowe’en party. ‘I will be the best there ‘cos my mum says I’m special’   ‘You certainly are,’ said Mrs Waters. Some of the boys sniggered. ‘Right Sophie – your turn, have we saved the best till last I wonder?  Out you come’.  Sophie’s throat dried up, her hands were wet and her stomach was doing somersaults.  She braced herself, carefully unpacked the doll and showed it to the class.  Silence.  The doll stared out to the children who stared back.

‘What a pretty doll’, Mrs Waters offered, ‘and so special I imagine because it’s made of china, children – very delicate.

‘My grandma bought it for me.  I have to be very careful  as mummy says china breaks very easily.’ It does indeed, ‘ said Mrs Waters, ‘And what is this special doll’s name Sophie?’

Without hesitation, and looking straight at her teacher, Sophie answered, ‘Jennifer’.

The boys were certainly unimpressed, some of the girls thought it was good;  Jennifer Cross concealed a snigger and leaned across to whisper to her friend.   

 

At break time Sophie couldn’t last any longer and she went to the loo before going out into the yard.  On the back of the toilet  door was written ‘Jennifer Cross is boss’. Strangely, Jennifer Cross and the others weren’t there, which was a great relief to Sophie in more ways than one.  When the class went back in after play,  there was a commotion in the doorway of the classroom.  Jennifer Cross was sobbing to Mrs Waters about it ‘not being her fault’ and she just wanted to have a closer look, it was so beautiful….The others were agreeing the demise of the doll had been an accident….  Sophie was delighted to see the shards of china on the classroom floor

‘It’s OK Mrs Waters’ said Sophie quietly, and reassuringly, ‘don’t worry Jennifer’. 

That was the first time she had dared to call Jennifer Cross by her name to her face.  Jennifer Cross immediately stopped crying and looked at her.  ‘Aren’t you even upset?’ she demanded.  ‘What about your Grandma? I thought it cost a lot of money?’ Sophie sighed, ‘Grandma always says’, she  paused, ‘…accidents will happen’ and warming with her new found confidence, added, ‘She’ll understand when I tell her you just wanted a closer look at her beautiful china doll present’.  Sophie faced Jennifer Cross, who had acted exactly as planned, met her eye and gave her the sweetest of smiles.  Of course she would have to deal with her mother, but now she knew she could.